De cómo ser rey
creo que es así el final de un poema de Pessoa:
Siéntate al sol y abdica
para ser rey de ti mismo
Lo recordé al ver esta foto que le saqué a mi tío Alcides. Soltero, instalador de molinos a viento...
Don't look. The world's about to break. Don't look. The world's about to chuck out all its light And stuff us in the chokepit of its dark, That black and fat suffocated place Where we will kill or die or dance or weep Or scream of whine or squeak like mice To renegotiate our starting price. HAROLD PINTER
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